


Best

by Darkfrog24 (Ithil), Ithil



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Comedy, Gen, Science Fiction
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-06-29
Updated: 2017-01-17
Packaged: 2018-02-06 16:01:59
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 15,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1863816
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithil/pseuds/Darkfrog24, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ithil/pseuds/Ithil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Agent Washington is finally up and about after receiving Project Freelancer’s latest AI fragment, but how does his new friend measure up? (Written for RvB Happy Hour.) Spoilers through season ten.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Show Them the Thing

_Red vs. Blue_ and its characters were created by Rooster Teeth Productions. _Red vs Blue_ is based on the game _Halo_ , by Bungie and Microsoft.

.  
.  
.

Washington's banana froze halfway to his helmet as two armored figures slid onto the bench on either side of him.

"Well?" asked York.

"Well what?" Washington answered, voice squeaking on the last note.

"Come on," North goaded gently. "You _know_ you want to show us."

Wash straightened his posture, "The AI regulations clearly state that—"

"Don't give me that," York cut him off.

"Yeah," said North. "You took a lot of punishment during implantation. Stuck in the infirmary for three days!"

"The Counselor says you were spewing 'nonsense and four kinds of bodily fluids.' Your medical file now states that you wet the bed on four separate occasions."

Wash choked on his Pringles.

"Oh no," said York.

"Give him the Heimlich!" said North.

"You give him the Heimlich!"

Wash forced the oversalted imitation potato back down the right pipe. "Look, I don't actually remember any of that part, okay?"

"Yeah, memory loss, weird side effects, whatever. Just be glad it wasn't inverted penis."

Wash narrowed his eyes, "Reggie told me you made that up."

"We did show you ours," said North.

"Now it's your turn," said York. "Whip it out."

"Okay," Wash said, voice betraying the jaw-crackingly smug smile underneath his helmet. "But I have to warn you, it's _kind of_ awesome."

Wash backed out of the cafeteria bench, and a blue figure in Spartan armor flickered dimly to life on the table. "Hey," it said, "whyja wake me up?" Its helmet turned left and right. "Who're these guys?"

"York, North..." Wash trailed off as if giving a drumroll. "...meet Epsilon."

The AI looked over its shoulder at Wash. "Which one's Epsilon?"

"No, that's you."

"Oh, right."

York and North exchanged a glance.

"Huh," said York.

"Yeah," said North.

"What?" asked Wash, putting his hands on his hips. "This is clearly the best AI fragment they've made yet. I mean _look_ at him."

Epsilon shifted the miniature rifle in his hands, muttering a curse as the magazine fell out.

"Uh..." North trailed off. "How can I put this?"

York looked at North, "He doesn't seem very..."

A small green hologram appeared off York's shoulder. "The AI known as Epsilon does not appear to be operating at optimal cognitive capacity."

"What he said," said York.

"What do you mean?" Wash asked. "He's fine!"

"Oh hey there!" Epsilon said, rising a foot in the air until he was level with Delta. "Man am I glad to see you."

Delta flickered. "Agent York, if you would kindly inform Epsilon that he and I have never met before."

"What he said," answered York.

"Dude, I'm right here. You can tell me yourself." Epsilon waved a hand across Delta's field of view. He turned to Wash, "Can green guy not see me or something?"

"Oh!" said Wash. "There's a rule that you AI aren't allowed to talk to each other directly."

"Well that's dumb," said Epsilon. "What if I need him to do some data processing for me?"

"You can process data yourself," said Wash. "All you guys can."

"No, data processing is his job. I'm the..." Epsilon flickered red for an instant. "What was my deal again?"

"You're going to help Wash run advanced equipment in battle," supplied North.

"Right. Equipment. Yes," said Epsilon. "That stuff."

Wash nudged York in the arm, "Isn't he great?" he said gleefully. "Oh, wait! Epsilon, show them the thing!"

"Which thing?" asked Epsilon. "Weren't there a couple?"

"The thing I asked you about after I came out of that coma."

"Oh! That thing!"

North put a hand on Wash's shoulder, "Maybe you can show us after the two of you've had a chance to uh... Get oriented."

"Yeah, let him wake up a bit," offered York.

"You just haven't seen him in action yet," said Wash, holding up his hands. "You're not going to believe it. This one can—"

"Showing off your toy to the other kids, Washington?" came a voice from the entrance. Agent South pushed the doors out of her way and marched across the cafeteria like it was a battlefield. "I guess you forgot to bring enough for everyone. Why they put Nancy Night-night ahead of me in line I will _never_ know."

"Wash was just introducing us to Epsilon," said North. "You've still got your place in line."

"You mean the line that's not there any more?" She pointed at Epsilon. "That's the last one, North. They won't be making _any_ more."

"Agent South is correct," added Delta. "The Director has decided to discontinue production of AI fragments. It is unlikely she will ever undergo implantation unless an existing agent becomes unfit for duty and their AI is recovered without significant damage."

"Good point, Delta," said South, striding straight into Wash's personal space. "I guess it's _not_ hopeless. All I have to do is poke Sleeping Beauty with a big enough spindle and I'll get an AI after all."

Epsilon looked at Delta. "Does she mean me because I don't think that'd work." His voice dropped. "She's kind of a bitch."

"Sis, I think maybe if you take a closer look at Epsilon, you'll realize that, uh..."

"That the Director made the right decision?" offered York.

"Oh like right figures into this," she said, shoving York on both shoulders. "The implant list is fucking bullshit." She snatched the banana out of Wash's hands and pitched it toward the water cooler.

"Hey!" snapped Wash. 

"Well that's rude," muttered Epsilon.

"I've outperformed snoozeboy here a dozen times!"

Epsilon flickered out and reappeared on the table between her and Wash, "Look, lady, I think maybe you're a little—"

"—I've beat his ass in every single mock battle in which he _wasn't_ teamed up with Tex or Carolina. And they give an AI to this fucking bedwetter?"

"Oh and I guess your butt's watertight when you're in a coma," snapped Epsilon.

"So you tell me why banana boy deserves that thing more than I do."

" _Hey!_ " The room flared the color of an electrical storm as blue light veined with red seared across the walls and ceiling. South stumbled back as a blazing mass of frost-gray armored sniper crackled to life two inches from her face.

"I am not a thing!" his voice boomed. "My name is—" he looked at Wash.

"Epsilon."

"—Epsilon! And you will fear my interface!"

There was a hiss and a crackle and South convulsed as her chestplate gave off short volley of sparks. Her shoulder twitched like a disembodied frog leg next to an electromagnet.

"What the–?"

"Sis, I think he shorted out your armor battery."

The light guttered and Epsilon returned to standard projection above the tabletop. "...did something happen just now?" he asked. "I feel like I shot lasers out of my face. Did it look cool?"

Wash elbowed York hard in the ribs. " _He gets bigger_."


	2. Tuck and Roll

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Agent Washington is working with Project Freelancer's newest AI, but how does his new friend do on a turret exam?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epsilon, Wash, and the rest of Project Freelancer and _Red vs. Blue_ are the property of Rooster Teeth Productions.
> 
> I wrote most of this at 32,000 feet when I had been awake since 5:30 a.m. four time zones ahead. Please blame it on the lack of oxygen. Originally posted on tumblr as part of RvB happy hour.

"I don't want to do the test. It's fucking bullshit," said Epsilon.

"We've practiced with the enhancement a dozen times, Epsilon," said Washington, checking his helmet seals. "You'll do fine. As soon as the Counselor gives the word, we'll head into the arena and start the scenario."

"I didn't say I wouldn't do fine. I said it's bullshit."

"Epsilon, you're going to have to be a little more—"

The door slid open and York and North entered the viewing area.

"Hey guys!" Wash said cheerfully. "Come to wish us luck?"

The hum of the instruments seemed unusually loud as York and North looked at each other.

"Oh! You want to see the equipment they gave me?" Wash pointed to the enhancement interface. "It's some kind of reflex booster. I took a basic rating for something like it a while ago but I never actually used it until after implantation."

"A reflex enhancer?" asked York. "Aren't you already like ninetieth percentile for reflex response?"

Wash put his hands on his hips. "Ninety-third!"

"Right," said North. "About the test..."

"Yeah..." York trailed off.

"We're not sure it's safe in there," said North.

"Safe?" Wash looked up from his equipment check. "It's the danger room; it's not supposed to be safe. Epsilon and I need our pre-field exam is all." He looked from one of them to the other. "What's really going on?"

"You know how South said that the AI seem to be getting weaker and weaker as they're made?" asked North.

"Yeah, but Epsilon kind of disproves that, don't you think?"

"And South's a bitch," added Epsilon.

"Careful, Epsilon; that's North's sister," said Wash.

"Is that important?" asked the AI.

Wash sighed.

"About the disproving part..." said York.

A green figure came to life by York's elbow.

"What Agents York and North Dakota are trying to say is that Epsilon may not be fully ready for the type of test that the Director has asked me to design."

Epsilon rolled his eyes all the way to his shoulders. "Do you always have to be such a—Oh. Right. Agent Washington," Epsilon said stiffly. "If you would kindly tell the AI known as Delta to stop being a cockbite."

"Epsilon!" said Wash.

"Okay, fine. _Ask_ him to stop being a cockbite."

"Wait, I thought you didn't want to do the test."

"I don't! It's—"

The three stood at attention as the door slid open. "Agent Washington," said the Counselor. "Are you prepared for today's examination?"

"Yes, sir!" he said eagerly.

"And how about you, Epsilon? How are you feeling?"

Epsilon looked at Wash and then at the counselor. "Okay, I guess?"

"Then please proceed below."

"Yes, sir!"

"Delta, if you would load the scenario."

"Of course, Counselor," said Delta as Wash all but skipped toward the exit.

York looked at North then stepped toward the glass. "Well the new guy seems more with it today, at least," he said.

North chuckled. "Epsilon or Wash?" Below them, Washington was hopping from one foot to the other like a tennis player loosening up while Epsilon covered his visor with one hand and shook his head.

"I would have to agree with Agent York," said Delta. "Epsilon's responses to our comments were fifty-four percent more direct than during our previous conversation. You may also note that he did not have to ask Agent Washington to prompt him for his name or where he was even once."

"So you think he can make it after all?" asked York.

"I did not say that," said Delta. "However, I too was disoriented during my first few days of consciousness, and our mental synthesis was significantly less eventful than Washington and Epsilon's."

"Can't speak for his manners, though," said North.

"I don't know," said York. "I'll take him over Gamma any day."

The door opened again, and a figure in plum-colored armor muscled her way toward the glass. "Counselor," she said. "Isn't the Director going to watch?"

"The Director is monitoring the testing from his office today, Agent South."

"Huh," she answered. She stepped away, positioning herself between York and North at the viewing deck. "Carolina and Maine are still in debrief," she murmured. "Guess it's just us to see the rookie get himself Swiss-cheesed."

"Good to see you too, Sis," answered North.

"Counselor, permission to ask about AI protocol," said South.

"Permission granted, Agent South," the Counselor said, inclining his posture.

"Why did you pick Washington? 'He's just the next guy in line' doesn't seem to be a the most scientific system for pairing up agents and AI."

The Counselor looked back toward the testing floor. "Epsilon's personality was difficult to decode," he admitted calmly. "In the end, we determined that Washington would be a better fit for him than Agents Connecticut, Florida or yourself. We hope that his cavalier attitude and abrasive demeanor may be countered by Washington's diligence and..."

"Begin the test," the Director's voice echoed through the deck.

"Beginning test," answered Delta.

"All right! Here we go!" Wash shouted gleefully.

"... _optimism_ ," finished the Counselor.

There was a soft, thick humming sound as a series of metal cranes emerged from the arena floor. Epsilon eyed them with suspicion. Wash was practically thrumming with eagerness.

"So what kind of demo are we getting?" asked York. "I don't know too much about ...what was it they gave him again?"

"The Director asked me to compose a scenario based on elements that Agent Washington is likely to encounter in the field," answered Delta. "In his role as a mission engineer, he has a greater need for evasion and defense than for straight combat enhancement."

"But then why not give him a shield like—Wait, what's in all those crates down there?"

York's voice was drowned out by a heavy clicking and whistling followed by a metallic shriek as the contents of one such crate soared through the air to a terrible impact.

" _ARE THEY THROWING CARS AT US?!_ " Washington's voice jumped two octaves.

" _I TOLD YOU THIS WAS BULLSHIT!_ " answered Epsilon.

The deck shook as a ton and a half of stressed metal crunched against the far wall of the arena.

"Shall I compensate for vibrations, Director?" asked Delta.

"No, Delta, I want all of your attention on the test."

" _Left!_ " shouted Epsilon.

North winced, throwing up his arms for balance at the second crash.

York blinked hard. "How'd he get all the way over there?" he pointed at Washington, who was backed up against a pillar, both arms braced behind him like a man edging away from a cliff. Even from this distance, his chest plate was visibly puffing in and out like the rib cage of a panicked cat.

"Agent Washington's armor was fitted with enhancements that increase his single-motion distance and agility as well as his response time," answered the Counselor. "With Epsilon's help, he can avoid ...troublesome encumbrances."

From the bay floor, Epsilon yelled, "On your right!"

Washington pushed off from the pillar, cleared a second, and landed halfway across the arena, barely clipping the rearview of a 2542 Ford Bludgeon.

"What, so he can jump like a fruit fly when you swat it?" South asked.

"That is ... _an_ apt description," added the Counselor.

"Ha!" she slapped her hands on the guard rail. "He even dresses like a flea!"

"Come on, Sis, there's no need for... Huh," North mused. "I guess he does."

" _Left!_ " called Epsilon. "Tuck and roll, Wash! Tuck and roll!"

"GYAAAAA!!"

"Wohoo!" South punched the air. "Reggie's going to be sorry he missed this."

"Okay now _right!_ Forty-four degrees!"

"Why do we even have old cars on this ship?!" Wash shrilled.

" _Your other right!_ "

" _This has got to be a waste of valuable hardware!_ "

A small purple figure appeared on North's shoulder, holding onto the edge of his helmet as if for balance while the ship swayed. "Why doesn't Epsilon talk inside Washington's head?"

"I don't know, Theta. Maybe he is."

"Maybe he's an idiot," added South. "Face it, your new brother down there isn't the sharpest tool in the shed."

"I don't know," said Theta. "He is moving awfully fast."

South laughed. "It's like the time cousin Phil dumped that rat in the boiler." She elbowed North. "You remember?"

Theta switched to the other side of North's head.

The intercom clicked on. "Add variables, Delta."

"Adding variables."

One by one, the entire ring of cranes whirled to life, swaying like a ring of metallic cobras.

"On my mark!" called Epsilon. "This one's going to be a spinner. Sync?"

"Sync!"

The first crane wheeled like the tail of a scorpion, flinging a warthog toward their position.

"Wait for it... Mark!"

Washington became a gray-and-yellow blur, ducking behind one pillar and leaping ten feet straight up as a second car scraped furrows in the floor like a high-speed metal glacier. Wash's left boot tapped the ground long enough to send him shooting off to the right. He clung sideways from a pillar like a child gripping the edge of a swimming pool before dodging the next target.

"Hm."

"What is it, Delta?" asked York.

"It seems that Epsilon has adjusted to his new responsibilities more readily than I had expected. If his level of integration continues at its current rate, I estimate that he could soon avoid even particulate obstacles if given adequate space."

"In English, D?"

"He could guide Agent Washington through a rainstorm without getting either of them wet."

"Well that's cool."

"It is also perplexing. Counselor," said Delta, "what, specifically, were the results of Epsilon's initial personality assessment?"

The Counselor opened his mouth but Director's voice came on the intercom, "Keep your mind on what you are doing, Delta. And do not ask questions."

"Yes, Director."

"Okay, we're going underneath!" yelled Epsilon.

"Got it!"

Wash clung to the top of the pillar as three early-model Warthogs and a four-door sedan converged on his position. Wash exhaled, vaulting off the roof of the sedan and twisting in the air straight toward the Warthog's center of gravity.

"Oh crap!" muttered York.

"Wait, there he is!" answered Theta.

"Intriguing," said Delta. "It seems that Epsilon calculated that Washington could pass through the rollbar of the first jeep and so avoid collision with the front bumper of the second."

Washington twisted as he hit the floor, rolling hip-for-shoulder into a standing position, muttering something under his breath that might have been, "Fucking four-wheel-drive..."

"Thank you Agent Washington," came the Director's voice. "That will be all. Delta, send the information to me for analysis."

"Yes, Director," he answered.

Wash's knees were unlocked, bending just enough to give him the look of a man who wished he could brace himself and heave in exhaustion. Nearby, Epsilon was perched on one of the wrecks, as if he were looking for something underneath the back seat.

"Wow," said York.

"I know," said North.

"That was the best," said South. "Next time I'ma' bring popcorn."

"What? You're not even going to stay and congratulate him on his pass? —He did pass, right?" asked North, getting an affirmative nod from the Counselor.

"Bye bye, birdie," said South. "I've got stuff to do."

"If you will all pardon me," said the Counselor, "the Director will want my observations. There are some peculiarities in the scenario that did not appear during the planning phase."

"Of course, Counselor. I'm sure—" South stopped short. "How long has _she_ been there?"

North and York turned around. The figure in black armor raised her helmet. Theta waved. "Hi, Agent Texas."

"Hi there, kid," she said. "Some test."

"Indeed," started the Counselor. "I am surprised by the level of difficulty. Most of our assessments involve only moderate risk of severe bodily harm to operatives and equipment."

"So you weren't originally throwing cars at him?" asked North.

"Oh no. We were."

"Hm."

North watched him go exactly long enough time for Delta to reappear in front of the display. Below them, Wash was already heading toward the exit. "A word, North, York?"

"Sure, Delta," said York as the sound of boots on the lowest level gradually became louder.

"Kindly inform AI Epsilon that I do not appreciate being called a cockbite."

York choked.


	3. Remedial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epsilon meets Tex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Epsilon, Wash, and the rest of Project Freelancer and _Red vs. Blue_ are the property of Rooster Teeth Productions.

_Why do we have to go to this dumb seminar?_ Epsilon asked Wash from inside the suit interface. _I already know all this stuff. AI, cognitive impression modeling, fragmentation, rampancy, meta-senility. Boom._

"Well I need to keep up my certification, Epsilon," Wash answered matter-of-factly as they headed toward the classroom. "That means taking AI theory."

"You know," said Agent York over his shoulder. "You don't actually need to say anything out loud to talk to him. It sounds kind of weird if you do it when he's not projecting."

"See?" said Washington. "I didn't know that."

_That's nice but why do I have to go with you to summer school?_

There was a long silence.

_Were you trying to say something just then? Think into my receiver._

Wash sighed as he fell into step next to York, who was trying to keep down a smirk.

_Then too? Yeah, still nothing._

Epsilon's holoprojection initiated in an unfocused blue whirl. "Maybe I should just stand where you can see me."

Wash sighed. "Thank you, Epsilon. We'll have to work on it."

"You know if you play with it too much you go blind," said York, pointing to his left eye.

"I'm not falling for that," muttered Washington.

A figure in panther-black armor rounded a corner up ahead, greeting York with a quick upnod. Epsilon flickered in place.

"Agent Texas," York answered simply. "You, uh, coming to class this time?"

"Not today. The Director wants me in training," she answered before turning toward Wash. "I saw part of your equipment test. You did good in there, rookie."

"Thanks," Epsilon and Washington both said at the same time. Wash turned to look at the AI, who was staring just as intently at him.

"Those were some quick dodge moves."

"I practiced for days," said Wash, while Epsilon answered, "Well, you know how it is." They looked at each other again.

_Pretty sure she was talking to me then, buddy,_ said Epsilon.

"A lot of girly screaming, though."

_That time she was talking to you._

"This the latest AI?" asked Tex.

Epsilon blinked out, reappearing at Tex's eye level.

"Yeah! This is Epsilon," Wash said enthusiastically. "I didn't know having one of these would be this... Epsilon, did you just get bigger?"

"No," he answered quickly.

"Epsilon. That's a funny name," said Tex. Her helmet shifted as the presumed eyes underneath focused on the semitransparent image. "You the one who shorted out South's armor?"

"That was—" Epsilon cut off and cleared his throat. "It didn't actually _short out_ but I got it to stop working."

"Don't tell North I said so, but South shouldn't run her mouth as much as she does. Bad for team cohesion." York shrugged but didn't argue.

"Right! Team cohesion! That's me, Mr. Team Cohesion," said Epsilon. _Wash, what the fuck is team cohesion?_ Wash opened his mouth and breathed in. _No, not now—wait till she leaves._

"Huh?" asked Wash.

"So that test sure was something," Epsilon was saying. "Nothing my assignee and me couldn't handle," he preened, tilting his head sideways at Washington as he slung both hands behind his head. "If you ask me I can't wait to get out there for real. Bust some Sangheili heads."

York laughed. "You've never seen a Sangheili. Gators average over seven feet tall."

"Good luck reaching," added Tex.

"Not a problem." Epsilon blinked out and reappeared two feet further up. "Also, you might have noticed that my Freelancer can jump."

"Cute," muttered Tex. "Anyway—" A ripple of white flares flew through Epsilon's image like a miniature meteor shower. "—I should probably get going."

"Our job doesn't always involve busting heads, Epsilon," said Wash. "Sometimes we plant bombs or gather intel or protect civilians or—"

"Yup. Uh huh. Hey, uh, don't take this the wrong way, Agent Texas, but have we met before?" asked Epsilon.

Tex didn't move, only giving the sense that she was narrowing her eyes. "That's not a line, is it?"

"Depends. Is it working?"

"Look, I gotta get back to it. See you guys later. Good luck with the integration."

"Thanks," Epsilon and Wash answered together as she walked off.

_She said good luck!_ said Epsilon.

"Um, yeah?" Wash answered.

_She said see you later!_

"Epsilon, is your memory acting up again?"

_Check out that ass!_

"Check out... what?"

_Hey, I wasn't doing that thing were I get that thready stuff over my head, was I? Makes me look like a dork._ Epsilon craned his head back. _Dammit, there it is._ He waved one hand behind him, swatting at the loose rays of light. _Stupid buggy image decompiler._

Wash elbowed York in the ribs. "See?"

"All I see is your AI chasing his tail," York answered.

" _'Is it working?'_ " Wash imitated. "It took Delta a month to tell when you were being sarcastic, and Epsilon's making jokes his first week. Not that Delta isn't good too," he followed up.

"Jokes," said Epsilon as the classroom doors opened. "Right. Those."

"Well he's not afraid of her at least," said York, taking the lead down the stairs into the lecture hall. "Took Theta a while to get over that." He laughed. "Maybe the little guy can take on the hinge-heads after all."

Agent Maine sat forward as they passed. Sigma looked over his shoulder, raising one hand in Epsilon's direction. Epsilon waved back. "Well they're nicer than the green dude, at least." Gamma, already projecting next to Wyoming, didn't say anything.

"Oh come on, Delta's all right," said Wash.

"Yeah, if you like space Vulcans."

"Technically all the Vulcans were space Vulcans."

"Like it counts as space if your ship only has one bathroom."

"That doesn't even make sense."

Delta appeared over York's shoulder, "Agent York, please inform Epsilon that I maintain my connection to your armor's auditory system even when I am not projecting visibly and that I can hear every word he says."

"Agent Washington," said Epsilon, "tell the car-chucker, 'I know.'"

The door opened again behind them and South muttered something about the boss being late as usual.

"Agent South, if you will," said a voice like hot honey sliding over ash, "this AI theory seminar is not scheduled to start for another several minutes. Agent Carolina is not late, though she didn't arrive as early as you did."

"Thank you, Sigma," answered Carolina. As she took her seat, a pastel blur appeared and then split into two.

"Hey, there's our sister," said Epsilon.

"Is one of those AI a girl?" asked Wash.

Epsilon blinked in place. "Huh? Why are you asking?"

"Because you just—I feel I should have picked up on that," answered Wash.

"Eta is, I think," said Epsilon. "I'm not really sure with those two. They're ... _thin_."

The gold AI pointed toward the front row. The blue one waved.

"Hm," Washington said softly, waving back. "Eta always waves but only at me."

"Yeah, she's glad you're not dead in a base infiltration incident."

"Well thanks for the vote of confidence," Wash answered testily.

"Well she _is_."

"Welcome, everyone," the Counselor interrupted smoothly. "Today's lecture will focus on neural integration and behavioral synthesis. We shall start with definition of essential terms..."

_Bored._ Epsilon flopped flat back as if making a snow angel.

"Mmsilon, mm trynn nn lizzn," Washington murmured under his breath. Delta tilted his head in their direction, then turned back to the lecture.

"...difficulty of adjusting to an AI's accelerated rate of information processing..."

_Booooored..._

"B'qwyut, Mmsilon."

"...logs of Agent York and AI Delta's performance indicate that this problem can be addressed by..."

_Oh God, how long is this thing?_

"Mmm."

"...which compensates for the decidedly _precipitous_ decline in..."

_Holy fuck. We can't be only twenty minutes in. I'ma' go reset that clock._ Epsilon disappeared. Epsilon reappeared. _Clock's not wrong. Shit._

"...but if Agent Carolina and AIs Eta and Iota are any indication, then even multi-party communication..."

_I would literally rather be getting shot at by aliens with plasma rifles and gravity hammers and I dunno, beam guns that make you sterile. Do the Covenant have beam guns that make you sterile?_

"Mmnnm?"

"...the Director's doctoral thesis was quite specific on the matter..."

_I wonder what Agent Texas is doing right now. You think it's training? I bet it's training. She said she was going to do training._

"Mnnnmm."

"...the consensus in the current literature of the field..."

_You think it's hand-to-hand or some kind of advanced weapons thing? She likes weapons. But she really likes hand-to-hand. You think it's both?_

"Mrrrmmm."

"...further research is required to confirm, which is of course the point of projects such as this one."

Epsilon folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, _You know that feeling you get on your first couple days of sentience when you see like a fifteen-foot mecha packed to the rafters with lasers and rocket launchers and you're not even sure how any of it works yet, but you know deep down that the minute you access its operating system the two of you are going to be an unstoppable engine of pure destruction, and you realize that hanging out on some crummy spaceship with a bunch of uptight jerks might just be a wonderful thing after all?_

"Hnnm?"

"If I may ask a question along this vein, counselor," said Sigma. "Agent Maine and I would like to know more about behavioral synthesis," said Sigma. "Specifically, if headaches and other side effects could be controlled by more ...coordinated behavior."

"It has been speculated that subconscious rejection of the link can exacerbate side effects," answered the Counselor. "To what kind of coordinated behavior do you refer?"

_Hey,_ Epsilon sat up. _Do you ever wonder why we're h—_

"Epsilon, _I'm trying to listen_ ," hissed Wash.

"Agent Washington, this is the fourth time you have interrupted," said the Counselor. "May I remind you that this information may mean success or failure for you in the field."

"I'm very sorry, sir."

South muttered something about being sent to the principal's office.

"Accepted, Agent Washington," replied the Counselor. "I am more concerned with substance of your outburst. Are you and Epsilon having any difficulties?"

"Not exactly," Wash answered quickly.

North sat forward, "Wait, you still haven't figured out how to talk to each other? It took Theta and me a few days to square that." Theta nodded encouragingly.

The Counselor regarded Washington like driver slowing down to read the street signs after a wrong turn. "Do you mean to say, Agent Washington, that you are unable to receive input from your AI through the neural link?"

Wash shook his head, "No, sir. I can hear him fine." He paused, like a spaniel straining against a leash. "I mean... he can't hear me."

"He just tells me stuff out loud. It's not a problem," said Epsilon.

"It could be a problem in the field," interjected Carolina. "Aside from the enemy hearing you call your moves, regular talking takes longer. That's practically the point of having a fully implanted AI instead of a standard armor linkup."

Over her shoulders, Eta and Iota echoed, "Yes," and, "We are faster."

"Also it makes you sound like you've got an early-bird discount and twenty cats at home," said South.

"Well I wasn't gonna say it, but..." York trailed off.

Wash looked back to the Counselor, "I'm sure we'll work this out, sir. We just need to ...get more used to each other."

"Delta," said the Counselor, "did you not determine that Epsilon and Washington's integration process was proceeding 'quicker than anticipated'?"

"It is possible that their progress has plateaued," answered Delta.

The counselor looked down at his data pad and made a note of something. "The results of your last implant assessment appeared normal. This suggests a serious—"

"However," Delta interrupted insistently, "it is also possible that their integration is merely moving in an unusual direction. If I were provided with access to Epsilon's personality file—"

"I'm sure that will not be necessary, Delta," answered the Counselor. "Hopefully this matter can be corrected using ...simpler measures."

South leaned forward in her chair, "Wait a second. Are you talking about reassigning it?"

"Wait, who what?" asked Epsilon, alarmed.

"No, Agent South. Reassigning Epsilon is probably not necessary—"

"Oh thank God," muttered Epsilon.

"—and I am sure the Director would agree."

"Yeah," said South, "just where is the Director today?"

"He is attending to another matter, Agent South. In the meantime, I am going to recommend that Agent Washington complete an embedded mission."

"An ...embedded mission?" Wash finished with a squeak.

"Is that a problem?" asked the Counselor.

"No! Uh, I mean no sir," said Washington as Wyoming hid a chuckle behind one hand and South didn't bother to hide a snort. "Whatever you think is best."

"Class dismissed."

_Oh finally. That was boring as shit._

Wash shot him a look as he stomped up the aisle toward the exit.

Sigma and Gamma exchanged a glance as they passed. "He is useless," murmured Gamma. "We do not need him." Sigma did not answer.

York jogged to catch up to Wash. "How's he taking it?" he asked.

"I'm _fine!_ Everything's fine." 

Epsilon turned to York. "He's fine."

"How long's he been saying that?" asked York.

"Like an hour," said Epsilon.

"Class only just ended, Epsilon."

"Well it warped my sense of time with its boringness!"

"That's not even a thing!"

"Well this isn't great," York admitted. "Packing you off for embedded without even, I don't know, giving you another checkup first? What if it's just a clogged pipe or something?"

"Agent York, as I have repeatedly attempted to explain to you," said Delta, "your neural implants are significantly more complicated than even the most advanced plumbing system."  
"It's fine, York," said Washington. "So maybe I haven't had to do one of these since I was first recruited," he said, stomping a little too heavily with each stride, "but it's fine. So what if we have three ops scheduled? I'm sure you guys will get along. Without me. Just fine."

"That's the spirit," said York, clapping Wash on the shoulder.

"So, uh," said Epsilon, "is anyone coming with us on this embedded thing, like maybe Agent North oooor Agent Texas?"

"No, Epsilon. It's just us and the simulation troopers," answered Wash.

"Cool. That's cool," said Epsilon as the doors sealed behind them. "What's a simulation trooper?"

.  
.  
.

 

The driving wind sandblasted snow over the heap of red- and blue-armored bodies.

"That could have gone worse. I guess," said Washington.

Epsilon flickered irritably.

"Technically we did meet the objective," Wash said, lifting the flagpole, "and the only man still standing is on our team."

"Yeah, but it's _that_ guy."

A soldier in regulation red stumbled past, dropping to his knees as he flung both arms skyward. "Woe for the companions of my youth, that on this day of glory the light of the flag cannot shine upon them! We shall not see their like again. Alas, _alas!_ "

Epsilon hefted his rifle to his shoulder, "You sure we can't just—"

"No!" snapped Wash.

"My only comfort is that they shall be spared the tribulation that is to come to those left behind by the rapture. Hang on. Doorbell." And he pitched forward.

"Wasn't me," said Epsilon.


	4. In the Face

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Wash and Epislon are back from their mission with the simulation troopers, but the _Mother of Invention_ has not been quiet in their absence.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Red vs Blue_ and its characters are the creation of the crew at Rooster Teeth. It is itself inspired by _Halo_ , owned by Bungie and Microsoft.
> 
> Credit where credit is due. Ever see something, get an idea for a 'fic and then forget that you saw it? Well that happened with this. An anonymous asker brought up the idea of what if Epsilon had been implanted correctly and then had words with South. We're about to enter my original concept for this 'fic, which deviated from that pretty early on, but all the same, props Anon!
> 
> Contains no spoilers for RvB13.

"Thank you for your report, Agent Washington," said the Counselor. "It is rare that I find an agent willing to put this much detail and effort into a simulated mission."

"Just trying to help the project succeed, sir," said Washington.

The counselor turned to Epsilon.

"Epsilon, what did you learn from your time with the simulation troopers?"

"Sidewinder is cold."

The hum of the atmospheric regulator suddenly seemed very loud.

"Interesting," said the Counselor. "Anything else?"

"Sidewinder is cold and snow can get in places you really think it wouldn't?"

"Epsilon, why don't you tell the Counselor about some of the tactics that we used with the simulation troopers or maybe how we dealt with some of the vehicle mixups—"

"Uh, 'cause you already _did_?"

"We'll revisit this," said the Counselor. "Did the two of you make any progress on your communication issues?"

"Hey, he _told_ me to stop asking about the kitten thing and I _did_."

"He means our silent intra-uplink communication, Epsilon," said Wash.

"Oh, the talk in my head thing." Epsilon turned to the Counselor. "No, still can't do that."

"Unfortunate," said the Counselor. "Did you try the exercises that the Director recommended?"

"Of course, sir, we were careful to do the whole routine—" said Washington just as Epsilon rolled his helmet back with, "Oh my God, _so_ boring and he goes on about it" and both finished on "—every day."

"Interesting," said the Counselor. "I will relay your information to the Director."

"Yes, uh, if I may ask, sir," said Washington. "Doesn't he usually do these reviews himself? I mean... for A-squad..."

"The Director is very busy lately, Agent Washington," the temperature of the Counselor's voice dropped.

"I know!" Wash answered quickly. "I mean—I just want to know if, umm..."

"He wants to know if he's been demoted," Epsilon cut in.

"The leaderboard should be visible from the cafeteria, training room and officers' lounge," said the Counselor. "Gentlemen, you are dismissed."

Wash hurried out into the hallway. "Hey Epsilon, let's do a training exercise. Waypoint me to any of those places the Counselor just said and upload the quickest course to my HUD."

"Jeez, you and the leaderboard," muttered Epsilon. "Calculating now."

Wash ducked through the half-open doors and headed down the corridor at a trot. "I worked my ass off to make it to the top of that thing, Epsilon, so hell yes me and the leaderboard."

"I thought Agent Texas was at the top."

"Oh, I meant the A-squad. You know, top eight."

Epsilon's image flickered in place. "Okay, taking into account the enlisted men's foot traffic and shipboard time of day, training room's closest but likely to be packed. I'm sending us to the off-duty room."

"Thanks." Wash blinked as a schematic of the ship's passageways briefly overlaid his view. "This is better than the attack plans you wrote me on Sidewinder."

"What can I say? I find large groups of idiots distracting."

"While we're on the subject, you need to be more thorough with your reports, Epsilon."

"Yeah, what did that guy want from me, a poem? They can just review the logs."

"Project Freelancer isn't just military," said Wash. "It's also a scientific project. The information we generate might help win the war against the Covenant and it's certainly going to affect future generations of AIs. Documentation is a big part of that. That's the whole point of having a sim trooper program."

Wash opened the door to the break room. Two figures turned his way. One, bareheaded, broke out into a smile that cracked the red scars across his face. The other stood up ...right in front of the leaderboard.

"Hey, look who's back!" said York.

"How'd it go?" asked North, hands on his hips.

"Man, you would not _believe_ the week we've had," said York, putting his feet on the table.

"No no no way," Epsilon held up both holographic hands. "Whatever you did, we did it in three feet of snow."

"Uh huh," Wash murmured distractedly, trying to lean over York's boots.

North quickly looked from Wash to York and back. "Um... You looking for something?"

"Oh no," Wash breathed out. "Just let me see the leaderboard, okay?"

"Why don't you tell us about your mission first?" said York.

"Yeah, any breakthroughs?" North asked, shifting position with a slow stretch that kept him between Wash and the blue-lit names.

"Worst sim mission ever. Of all time. Now get out of my way."

"Yeah, all our guys died," said Epsilon. "I've been meaning to ask about that. Why would someone sign up to be in a _simulation_ that they can _actually_ die in?"

"It's all about winning the war, Epsilon," said North.

"We've got our place in the system—hrk!" Wash jumped in place to get a glimpse over North's shoulder. "Those guys know that the testing they do will help us defeat the Covenant."

"I kinda' think of them like seat belts," said North, planting a palm on Wash's helmet to keep him at arm's length. "They might not look like they're doing anything important most of the time, but they save lives from the back seat."

"I don't know," answered York as Wash tried to duck back. "Remember scenario three? You know, _that_ part of scenario three?"

North cringed, "Ouch. I take it back. No man should have to go like that. That thing has what, a zero percent survival rate?"

"More like _negative_ zero."

Delta flared to life over York's shoulder, "Agent York, you do know that negative zero is the same thing as—"

" _Yes, D._ "

"Hey, can we talk about sim troopers later?" asked Wash, ducking North's grip. "I really want to see the leaderboard."

York reached out and put a hand on North's arm. "Should we break it to him slowly?" he asked in a mock-somber voice.

"It might be better to rip it off like a band-aid," answered North.

"Rip—Break? _What_?" Wash's voice went shrill. Wash planted his palms on North's shoulders, gave a vaulting jump, and started scrambling up his armor.

North gave a surprised chuckle. "What are you doing?"

"Regs say I can't use my enhancement inside the ship, but I can still get past you!" Wash braced an elbow against North's shoulder and levered himself higher. " _Or_ you could just get out of the way."

York had one hand pressed over his good eye, shaking his head as his ribs quivered up and down.

"Uh, buddy?" said Epsilon. "I _think_ they might be messing with you." 

"Just let me see!" 

"Epsilon," York put a hand over his chest, "why do you think we'd joke about something like this?"

"Um, 'cause you do it at every goddamned opportunity?" Epsilon added, holograph wavering as Wash tried to get a foothold on North's chestplate. "Also because the leaderboard hasn't been updated since we left."

Wash froze mid-heave. "What?!" he asked, twisting around just enough to lose his balance and get himself dumped on the floor.

Agent Washington sprang back up like a boxer, coming eye to eye with Epsilon. "What— Are you sure?"

"Yeah, I knew as soon as we docked. Why?"

"Why didn't you tell me?!"

"You didn't— I—" Epsilon flickered and seemed to compose himself. "I didn't know that I knew until somebody asked, all right?"

"Odd." There green light shifted as Delta projected on the table. "Agent York, would you kindly ask AI Epsilon if this sort of thing happens often?"

"Wait, it doesn't happen with you?" asked Epsilon.

Theta appeared over North's shoulder. "Not me either," he volunteered.

"Weird," muttered Epsilon.

"Yeah..." Washington murmured, half under his breath, having finally muscled past North. "They really _haven't_ changed the listing since we left. He touched the panel to the right of the display, scrolling through the full fifty-agent roster. "They didn't update _anybody_. Even Con— everyone's right where they were."

"You memorized the whole list?" asked York. "Yeah, something about the Director being busy with a big project." He stood up and slapped Wash on the shoulder. "Plenty of time to get your butt back in his good graces before we get re-ranked."

"I could give you a good reference for your climbing skills," offered North.

"Agent York," Delta cut in. "Would you please ask AI Epsilon if he knows the outcome of the mission we went on while he and Agent Washington were gone?"

York raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. "What he said."

Epsilon looked at Wash.

"What?" asked Wash.

"Agent Washington," Epsilon recited, "would you _kindly_ tell Agent Dork and his sidekick AI Greenbean to go straight to hell?"

"Uh, no?"

Delta flickered in place. "Agent York," he clipped, "please tell AI Epsilon, 'I'm sorry.'"

York looked from Delta to Epsilon and back. "Uh..." he trailed off.

Epsilon folded his arms and tapped one foot in the air. " _And?_ " he said.

Delta seemed to narrow his eyes. " _And_ I do not intend to alter the parameters of any training exercises in which he or Agent Washington is engaged beyond the levels strictly specified by Project leadership."

Wash jumped. "Wait, was _that_ why my qualifying exam was so—"

"Okay _fine_ ," said Epsilon. "Your last mission was..." Epsilon turned his head to the side. "Holy crap, you picked a lock in the field without screwing up. Is that a first for you, York?"

"Hey! I—well, yeah," he finished quietly.

"And..." Epsilon trailed off. "You were chasing a lead on some kind of Insurrectionist leader who got his hands on a set of specialized EOD armor originally from Project Freelancer. Objective was to capture one of them alive for interrogation. Carolina was deployed in stealth mode and—" Epsilon's posture straightened. "...so was Agent Texas. York disabled the security system and Tex and Carolina took out like twenty goons while Wyoming went in for the capture." Delta exchanged a look with Theta. "Holy fuck, Tex beat the _hell_ out of that guy. Carolina and Eta had to stop her killing him. Sis was really not having it that day. Uh..." Epsilon scratched his head. "I dunno where the prisoner is now. Did we get anything good out of him?"

"Wow," York muttered under his breath.

"I guess Epsilon auto-accesses the ship's mission logs as soon as we get within range," Wash said with a hint of smugness. "Doesn't Delta do that?" He shook his head. "Anything else interesting happen while we were gone?"

"You could say that," answered North, taking a seat. "Now that the whole squad knows that Agent Texas has an AI, he's been a little more ...visible"

"Turns out that's why Carolina was so pissed when she got Eta and Iota," York said. "I mean, as much as she gets pissed any more," he trailed off, looking at the door.

"Omega, right?" asked Washington. "He some kind of combat AI?"

Epsilon scoffed. "If you can call him that."

A small chiming sound went off and North touched the side of his helmet. A florid voice toned, " _Swim seagull in the sky/Towards that hollow western isle._ "

"You have a Duran Duran ringtone?" asked Epsilon.

"Trouble?" asked York.

"A little," said North. "I'd better get down there." He turned to Washington. "I told Four-seven-niner to ping me if South got to be too much to handle."

"You have a Four-seven-niner Duran Duran ringtone?"

"South still on disciplinary?" asked York, swinging his feet to the floor and picking up his helmet from the table.

"Till further notice," North confirmed.

"Did Agent South do something to get put on punitive duty?" asked Wash.

York raised an eyebrow before pulling the visor down over his face. "Your little buddy can't tell you?"

"Oh, I see what's happening," said Epsilon. "Yeah, I'm not actually all-powerful and all-knowing, but I can see where you could get confused. 'S 'cause I'm so sexually attractive."

York swished his hand straight through Epsilon's projection.

"Ugh!" shuddered Epsilon. "If you're gonna do that, could you buy me dinner first?"

"So what's scenario three?" Washington asked as they moved toward the gravity lift. "I only ever did one, four and seven."

"You know the system," said North, "no revealing the scenarios before debrief. The data's only reliable if our reactions are real."

"Besides, you do not want to know. That shit is messed up. You wouldn't want to eat for a month," said York. North gave an affirmative grunt.

Washington narrowed his eyes as he looked North up and down. "I'm starting to think I don't have to take this anymore. Epsilon, look it up for me."

"Already on it," Epsilon answered as North raised an eyebrow. "Scenario three involves... ...uh, no access."

"Wait, you can access details of a real mission that happened last week, but you can't get into a three-year-old sim trooper program?"

"Hang on, hang on," Epsilon grumbled. "Maybe if I try it like this..."

"Don't worry, Epsilon," said York, "I hear it happens to every guy."

The door opened and they headed to the hangar.

"Oh that doesn't sound good," murmured Washington.

"No! Put it over _there_!"

"Where I put it is fine!"

"It's _upside-down_."

"The crate's built for zero gravity. It doesn't _matter_. And I thought you were bitching about _where_ I put it."

Four-seven-niner rolled her helmet toward the ceiling. "Which one of us is supposed to be being punished again?"

"Oh no," muttered North. "They let her use a forklift. 'Scuse me, guys." He hurried across the hangar. "Hey!" he waved. "What's going on?"

York sighed happily. "Four-seven screaming her head off, maintenance crews just trying to keep outta her way without destroying millions of dollars' worth of the taxpayers' money. Is it just me or does it feel like things might be getting back to normal around here?"

"We can only hope," Wash answered.

"York!" someone called from across the room.

Epsilon froze up. _Oh God, she's here. Be cool be cool be cool._

"Are you talking to me?" Wash asked.

_No! Shut up before people start looking._

"Hey," said Agent Texas, ducking two of the engine techs as she jogged toward them. "Welcome back, Washington. York, the floor chief told me to ask you about the codes you used for the last tagger round in training. Darn thing is stuck."

"Sure," York answered. "I'll have D upload the numbers to your HUD."

"I can do it," Epsilon jumped in as Delta appeared over York's head, holding his pistol like a tiny clipboard.

"I assure you, Epsilon. I am perfectly capable of correcting a simple data imbalance," answered Delta.

"No, I got this," said Epsilon flickering slightly as his concentration shifted.

"Epsilon, I must insist that you not infringe upon my duties. If you are short of things to do—"

York's eyes moved from Delta to Epsilon and back as if watching a tennis match.

"Epsilon, I think Delta's good to go," said Wash.

"Nah, I'll do it."

" _No one asked you_ ," growled a guttural voice. A gray-white AI materialized two inches from Epsilon's visor. Wash took a quick step back, pulling Epsilon with him.

"Is that—"

"Yeah he has that effect on people," said Tex.

"Omega is right," Delta continued. "I am capable of updating simple data of this kind much faster than—"

" _Done_ ," said Epsilon.

There was a long beat.

"Thanks?" asked Tex.

"You're welcome, Agent Texas," said Epsilon. "Anytime you need help."

"Epsilon," Washington asked, tilting his helmet, "if those codes are from Delta and York's last training session, then how come you have access to them but FILSS can't—?"

There was a sickening crash and groan of abused metal as South's forklift dumped half a crate of Warthog parts in front of the personnel lift, scattering four scooters and an intern. Four-seven's voice rose about half an octave, and North started waving his arms.

"Aw crap," muttered Tex. "I'd help, but..."

"Yeah, she's probably still pissed," added York. "Wash and I'll go see if they need help with South."

Tex nodded and headed for the exit.

A correcting bar ran down the smooth blue projection, like a rabbit grooming its fur with its paws. "You know," said Epsilon speculatively, "I think I might need to practice my reporting skills after all. I'm'a be right back. Good luck with crazy forklift lady!"

"Epsilon!" called Wash.

York shook his head. "You know, for somebody who was designed to never need to sleep or recharge, he's pretty lazy."

"He is not," Wash answered primly. "You heard him; he just wants to go practice."

There was another crash from the loading zone.

"You were saying?" asked York.

Wash shook his head and walked toward the Pelican.

"It's not my fault!" echoed a voice from the far side of the ship. "Why does this thing only have two pedals if it can move in six directions?"

" _Because it's got a fucking steering wheel,_ " bellowed Four-seven.

"Well that's lame."

"You're going to be lame by the time I'm through with you!"

"Oh?" South asked, sliding down from the forklift and striding over to Four-seven, narrowing her eyes from a head's difference in height. "You think you can take me, chicken-wing?"

"Oh you are _on_."

"Now, Sis, let's not be hasty about this," North held up both hands. "If you guys want, we can reserve a spot for a sparring match and you two can work out some of this—"

Four-seven launched herself at the taller woman, knocking her off balance.

"—and there they go."

"Starting with a crash?" South growled. "You fight sloppier than you fly. According to what's written on the locker room wall, it's also sloppier than you—"

"That's it! You asked for it!"

There was an ozone-charged punch and the sound of a heavily armored body keeling over like a sack of potatoes.

"That wasn't Epsilon," said Wash, looking behind them, where a definitely less small than usual Epsilon was talking to Agent Texas.

"No. Shit. I thought the Counselor was kidding." York cracked his helmet down over his head and hurried toward the Pelican's ramp.

"Kidding about what?" Wash demanded, trotting to keep up.

"The Director gave Four-seven a Harvestline Mark IV cattle taser and told her that if South got out of line again—"

They skidded into view in time to see South pushing herself to a sitting position while North held a viciously squirming Four-seven-niner off the ground in a neck lock.

"—to be sure to get her in the head," York finished.

"Seriously?!" Wash's voice jumped.

"Yeah, you know, because the suits are insulated."

"No, I mean that he gave her a taser at all and— _Good God, North, don't kill her!_ " called Washington as he broke into a run and bolted for the Pelican.

"She shocked my baby sister _in the FACE,_ " North's voice rose up from his chest like a stormcloud.

"Hey fuck you, you're like—aaagh" South convulsed, "four minutes older."

"Maybe not the best time!" called Wash.

"D?" York asked, skidding to a stop by the loading ramp.

"I have already notified security and a medical team. I estimate a two-point-six-minute response time."

"North, put her down!" insisted Washington, taking hold of one of his arms. "York, help me." York took the hint and grabbed the other, loosening his grip enough for Four-seven to duck her head out of his hands and take a big gulp of machine-tainted air.

"Delta, can you choke someone to death in two minutes?" asked Wash.

"I believe Agent North is perfectly capable of breaking pilot Four-seven-niner's hyoid bone." York and Wash stared at Delta for a beat. "So yes," he finished.

Four-seven popped back up as if she were spring loaded. "Oh quit it. I can take a hit," she rasped. "What I'm not taking is more of her mouth!" she snapped toward South.

"Bite me," answered South discharging another corona of sparks.

"Well then maybe it's time for us all to take a break," York followed up.

"Well something's gotta break I'll tell you that," Four-seven grated, voice low but sharp. "You!" she pointed to one of the trembling maintenance peons. "And you! Start taking five. Now!" She stormed off after her scurrying minions.

North offered South a hand up, but she swatted it away, pushing herself to a sitting position.

"What did you _say_ to her?" Wash asked.

"Yeah, Wash, I just love being able to hear Mexican love songs in my dental fillings. Thanks for asking." South tossed her head back and forth, rubbing a growing welt on her cheekbone. "What the hell is 'un cañón grande'? Sounds like a cut-rate translation mod."

"All right, what the hell was that?" asked York. "North, one minute you're Mr. I-better-get-over there and next minute you're boning Four-seven's hymoid."

"That's not what I—" Delta flickered in place. "It is probably immaterial."

"No one beats up on South but me," North's voice shook with a dark reverb.

South shot North a look. "Bro, you sound kind of—"

There was a sound like a mastiff's bark and a car door slamming. York, Wash and the twins looked over to the far side of the hangar.

"...so _then_ he says, 'that doesn't seem physically possible!'"

Tex's body spasmed, shoulders heaving.

South twitched again. "What the _hell_ is that—"

"—unholy racket?" finished North.

"No no no!" Epsilon held up both hands. "It was like you're that kid who's trying to keep the class hamsters alive but they've all got the survival skills of a mushroom with fetal alcohol syndrome. Two of them tried to install a rocket launcher on one of those jeep things, the ones that look like a big cat. Yeah, there was a slight problem with recoil."

Another noise came from Tex, halfway between a shout and rusty iron grate.

"Took us three hours to get rid of the stain and I _wish_ it was just blood."

South blinked, "Did she just..."

"I think she laughed," said York

"Are you sure?" asked South.

"No."

"And that guy from command! 'Why is Hamster Fuzziwinks dead, Agent?'" imitated Epsilon. "'Snorkel bet him he could lick the flagpole in subzero temperatures, sir.' 'And Scamper?' 'Thought hypothermia just meant he needed to eat more snow, sir.' 'And Twinkie?' 'Trouble working the food bowl sir.' '...but it's just a bowl.' 'That's what _I_ said!'"

"Well he's got the voice down," muttered South. 

"Whose voice?" asked Washington. York slapped him in the back of the head. "Ow!"

"That's not funny," North followed, eyes narrowing.

Wash turned around. "Hey, North, are you all right? You sound like Maine with a sore—"

A gray-white figure in a Mark V appeared over North's shoulder, then blitzed out as if erased. North's shoulders dropped and he shook his head as if trying to shed water droplets.

Omega reappeared in front of Agent Texas, voice carrying just enough for Wash to make out, " _Mind your own business, dreg._ "

"Who you calling a dreg, Paint-by-Numbers? Also, 'dreg'? What the hell kind of insult is that?"

North pulled off his helmet, blinking hard. "Theta?"

Theta projected at North's eye level. "I'm alright. He didn't shove me _too_ hard."

South looked from North to Texas and back. "Aw fuck, again? Hey Texas!" she barked. "I thought the Director said for you to curb your goddamned dog!"

Tex turned toward Omega, posture tightening.

" _It was only a bit of fun_ ," growled the AI. " _You know they meant nothing to me._ "

Texas turned on her heel and stormed out of the hangar. Omega flinched slightly as he was dragged along with her.

"Nice talking to you!" Epsilon called after them.

"Yeah sure," muttered Tex.

"What was that?" asked Wash as Epsilon reappeared over his shoulder, still watching Texas walk away.

"Packs a wallop," muttered North.

South folded her arms. "Some of us can't get back on the implant list for one AI, and you assholes are doubling up left and right. Between Omega and Carolina, there won't be anything left for the rest of us."

"Doubling up?" Wash asked.

York exhaled irritably. "You know how we said Tex's AI has been more visible lately?"

"The Omega fragment has found some way to transmit himself from one Freelancer to another without moving his physical AI chip," Delta clipped to Wash.

"He does it whenever she tries to pull him," added York.

"And whoever he jumps into gets killer PMS," said South.

"Hey!" snapped York. "Just because Omega agreed with me about Reggie's knock-knock jokes doesn't mean it's okay to make fun of a guy's—"

"Really?" asked Epsilon, leaning toward Delta. "How's he doing it?"

"Well not by asking permission first, let me tell you that," said York. "First time he got into my head, I thought I was going to explode. And _someone_ wasn't helping," he tipped his helmet toward Delta.

Delta's image flickered. "I was surprised to find myself sharing drive space and a host with another AI, even if we are both fragments. I do not feel that my reaction was unwarranted."

"Tell that to my migraine!"

"Yeah yeah, you don't like people touching your stuff," said Epsilon, "but if he's overcoming the limitations of the physical medium..."

North waved his hand. "The Counselor's been all over it since he first got caught switching up," he said. "Even pulled the Director away from whatever he's been working on these past few weeks. Far as I can tell, they're just trying to get him not to do it in the field."

"Tex is probably taking him to the Counselor now. Supposed to report all incidents or something," said South. "Guess she'll miss hogging the training room like usual."

Epsilon sniffed. "Sounds like South isn't the one who needs to get tased."

"Speaking of which..." Delta turned to York. "Would you ask AI Epsilon if he knows why Agent South Dakota was placed on disciplinary duty?"

"Okay, now I agree with Omega. Like it's his fucking business," said South.

"Of course not," Epsilon folded his arms. "Why would I know?" He looked at South, "But if I had to guess I'd say she told the Counselor what she thought of his new bowtie."

"Interesting," said Delta.

"What? That thing's awful."

"Epsilon, try to keep it professional," said Washington.

The hangar door slid open and a medic trotted toward the Pelican ramp.

"Come on," said South, pulling on North's arm. "Let's make chicken-wing wait while you get your brain checked out."

"I'm alright," answered North, but he let himself be dragged. "If anything, hearing Tex laugh shook me up more."

"About that," said South, looking over her shoulder at York and Wash and then back to North. "How come when I crack up about stupid people offing themselves, you all call me a psychopath, but when she does it it's like fucking Rain Man learning to love?"

"I don't know, Sis."

York shook his head as he watched them go. "Sometimes I'm glad I was Mama York's only boy."

"Agent York, ask Epsilon about Agent South Dakota's role in last week's mission," said Delta.

"Huh?" asked Epsilon.

"Agent South Dakota. Where was she when Carolina was capturing the Insurrectionist spy?"

Epsilon shrugged. "I dunno. Here?"

York stared at Epsilon. "Well _that's_ weird..." he muttered.

"Agent Washington," said Delta. "I do not believe Epsilon is getting his information from the mission logs. If he were, he would know that it was Agent South who initially captured the subject. She attempted an impromptu interrogation in the field, nearly leading to his escape. He has yet to regain consciousness from his secondary subduing at the hands of Agents Texas and Carolina."

"Should you be repeating classified information?" asked Washington. "Epsilon and I might not be cleared for that."

"Should you be acting like a hall monitor?" asked York.

"Epsilon," Delta asked, "when did you realize that I had altered the parameters of your and Agent Washington's field proficiency test?"

Epsilon didn't answer.

"Agent Washington," said Delta, "I ask your and Epsilon's permission to analyze this phenomenon further before you report it to the Counselor."

Wash blinked. "You don't think that's a little out of proportion, Delta?" he asked. "So Epsilon's download capacity is spotty. He probably just needs some debugging."

"Hey, I'm not the one who requisitioned the special shampoo back at Sidewinder, pal!" snapped Epsilon. York looked at Wash and then took a step away, running one hand over his helmet.

"Please, Agent Washington. The Counselor is very busy. I believe I can prevent mishandling of this issue if I present the matter to him in an organized fashion. I am confident that he will not object to being offered a ...complete data set."

"Okay," said Wash, "but if it comes up or if I'm given a direct order—"

"Of course," Delta responded, immediately logging out.

Wash exhaled. "Well if they didn't kick _South_ off the leaderboard..."

"There's hope for you yet," finished York.

Epsilon turned his head. "I dunno. They had her electrocuted instead."

"Whatever," shrugged York. "She'll walk it off."

"Electrocuted," repeated Epsilon. "With an electrocuter that they usually use on cows."

"She'll be fine," said Washington.

"On. _cows_. Look, not like it wasn't nice to see her get taken down a peg, but the human brain—which both of you have, by the way—really isn't meant to take in that much energy from the outside. You've gotta be careful what you meatsacks put in your nervous system."

"So... too much artificial stuff in my CNS is a real pain in the ass?" asked York.

"Imagine that," smirked Wash.

"You two are assholes," said Epsilon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Originally posted as Darkfrog24 under the title "Best, Part 4."
> 
> drf24 at columbia dot edu


	5. Secrets

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Epsilon is back on the Mother of Invention, and it's going about as well as you'd expect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  _Red vs Blue_ and its characters are the creation of the crew at Rooster Teeth. It is itself inspired by _Halo_ , owned by Bungie and Microsoft.
> 
> Contains no spoilers for recent seasons of RvB.

The blue light wavered out through the room, casting shadows in the shape of a voice. Something wasn't working. Something was wrong because it wasn't wrong. There was a question. He breathed in electrons instead of oxygen turned his head upward but the answer was so heavy—

_Hey Wash! Wake up! Battle stations!_

Agent Washington bolted upright, hitting his head against the bottom of the rack above him. Agent Florida muttered something about yoga poses and went back to sleep.

"What is it, Epsilon? Are we under attack?" Wash slid to his feet, detaching his helmet from where it was mag-hooked to the wall.

"What? Why would we be under attack?"

"You just said—" Florida grumbled and Wash dropped his voice. "You just said 'battle stations.' Why did you wake me up if it's not an emergency?"

Epsilon stood still over Wash's shoulder for almost a full minute.

"I'm bored."

Wash slouched against the edge of the rack. "I need to sleep, Epsilon."

"Well what kind of AI would I be if I let my assignee dose off after whamming his coconut like that? You might fall into another coma. Come on, let's hit the training room!"

Wash shook his head. "Well I don't think I _could_ get back to sleep after that." Wash sighed. "Might as well see if whoever's in there wants a fresh partner. Been a while since I sparred with Ohio." Wash rolled his shoulders and worked his way toward the hallway. "Huh. It's been a while since I've _seen_ Ohio."

"Thanks, buddy," said Epsilon. "I owe you one. Just couldn't stand to be still another minute, you know? Gotta get up and move."

Wash rolled his eyes. "I could always pull you," he said. "I'm sure there's a memory unit where you could kick around until morning. Or maybe FILSS could use a hand."

Epsilon was already shaking his head. "Memory units freak me out, man."

"How would you know? You've never been in one."

"Yeah, but that time when North pulled Theta last— Anyway, it's all that concept of being stuck in a tiny room and you never know who's watching."

Wash ducked to the side to avoid a pair of flight techs. "Well it's funny you should wake me up with 'battle stations.' I was dreaming there was a base invasion," said Wash.

"Yeah, downside of having an organic brain. You'd think that squishy little sack of fat in your skull would be satisfied giving you sub-par sensory input when you're awake."

"There was some kind of ...aquarium I guess? I don't know." Wash shook out his helmet before cramming it on his head. "I don't usually remember my dreams."

Epsilon touched his chin. "You know, I might be able to work on that for you."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean we've gotta smooth out that mental integration thing. If you give me access to more of your nervous system, I could dig up your dream memory and try to piece it together."

Wash paused. "That actually sounds pretty neat. I mean, dreams are still pretty important to psychology and it could be a big deal for neuroscience. What do I have to do?"

"Just lemme know if you feel any side effects," said Epsilon. "I'll take a look around, write up some code, and run it in the background whenever the Director doesn't have us doing any other stupid shit."

Wash put his hands on his hips. "Our missions aren't stupid shit, Epsilon."

"Yeah," Epsilon shrugged, "but we haven't _been_ on a real mission, have we? Counselor says we're cooling our heels at training until you get over your mental mute thing. Or if they change their minds about it mattering."

Wash snorted inside his helmet.

"Look, I didn't make the rules. I'm not even sure what the rules are in the fuck-ass outfit."

Wash stomped toward the end of the hall.

"You giving me the silent treatment?"

Epsilon paused.

"Are ...you trying to do it right now?"

Wash sighed and headed out the door.

.  
.  
.

 

North and York turned around as Wash walked into the observation deck. Theta waved. Delta gave a slight upnod and turned back to watching the match.

"Can't sleep?" asked York.

Wash opened his mouth to answer. "Nope," said Epsilon. "Who's down there?" he asked.

"Carolina's with Penny and Colorado," said North.

"...how'd that happen?" asked Wash. "I know Penn wanted more time with leaderboard squads but..."

"Carolina lost a bet," York smirked. "Now she has to stay down there until Colorado actually hits the target."

"But isn't that what we want?" asked Theta. "If the other Freelancers become better soldiers, you know you can count on them."

North shook his head. "That's how most military units work, 'no stronger than its weakest soldier,' but the point of Project Freelancer is to try something different. We're a competitive group. Now, Pennsylvania and Colorado are so far down on the list that they're no threat to Carolina's position, but the fact that she's burning her training time to help them get from thirty-seven to thirty-two instead of getting herself from two to one—"

"Is going to make her feel like she's gargling battery acid," finished Epsilon. "Fuck, what bet did she lose?"

York scratched the back of his neck, "Uh..."

North sighed. "South bet her whether or not the Director would put you and Epsilon back in the field after your performance at Sidewinder."

Wash's arms dropped. "South bet against me?"

"Technically, she bet against sim trooper missions doing anything useful," York pointed out.

"That's not the point!"

"It wasn't nice of her," said Theta.

"Sometimes we end up making friends, but that's not why we're here," finished North.

"Aaaaand if we could end the after-school special?" asked Epsilon. "C'mon, I wanna see."

"Right," said Wash, stepping up to the safety glass. Below, Carolina was slashing her hand at Pennsylvania. There was a daisy-yellow flicker as Eta got her attention, pointing to Colorado's feet. Carolina stood up straighter and then moved forward, motioning for the other agent to correct his stance. FILSS reset the scenario, and Colorado sent Penny flying into the wall.

"Since when can Carolina..." Wash trailed off.

"Teach for shit?" asked York.

"I wasn't going to say it, but yeah," Wash said in amazement, watching Penny give an upside-down thumbs-up as she slowly slid to the floor like a half-splattered ladybug down a windshield. "I asked her to show me that move five times and I couldn't even figure what she was talking about."

"I guess having two extra voices in your head makes you better at communication." York shrugged. "Eta and Iota are probably the weakest of our AI, but it turns out they got all the people skills."

"What?" asked Theta as Epsilon said, "Oh that's rude," and Delta made a throat-clearing sound.

York turned at the waist, leveling his good eye at Delta. "Buddy, you thought that lobbing a pickup truck full-speed at a guy who called you a cockbite was a good comeback," York turned to Epsilon, "and you _called_ him a cockbite in the first place, and you—" he held up a finger at Theta. "You ...are all right, actually."

"Thank you," preened Theta.

"It's not going to matter," muttered Epsilon. "The Director hasn't updated the leaderboard since before we left."

"He has been closely occupied with his 'special project,'" commented Delta.

"Oh hey! Did green boy actually talk to me?"

"Agent York, please tell AI Epsilon that I was contributing to the commentary in general, and kindly ask him to stop trying to get me to violate protocol."

"What he said," said York. "Anyway, how's your progress?"

"Nothin' bad but nothin' good either," said Epsilon. "Still can't hear a darn thing."

"But we had a neat idea earlier," said Wash. "Epsilon's going to get more in tune with the way my brain works. He's going to try to remember my dreams for me."

York leered. "Like lady dreams?"

"Ugh," Wash splayed his hands. "If you must know, last night I dreamed I was in an aquarium."

York sat forward. "Like with fish?"

"No, but the walls were blue and a bunch of people were watching me."

"Ick."

"I thought you said the dream was about a base invasion," said Epsilon.

"It was," answered Wash.

"A base invasion with fish?" asked York. "What was the mission objective, crab Rangoon?"

Delta projected closer. "Such a project might have practical applications in both neuroscience and psychology," he said. "It would be in keeping with the scientific goals inherent in Project Freelancer's mission." He looked away a moment, as if seeming to remember something. "...Might I offer my assistance in documenting the process?"

"Hey, I don't need your help!" said Epsilon.

"Please tell Epsilon that I would not interfere with his efforts. I merely wish to ...take notes."

"It's fine with me, Delta," said Wash. "Epsilon, copy him on whatever he wants."

Epsilon's projection fizzed in place as he grumbled. "Fine. But I'm giving him all the embarrassing details about your side effects."

"Fine," said Wash. "What kind of side effects?"

"Oh, the basics. Maybe some headaches, auditory and visual hallucinations, death..."

"Hang on a second..."

There was a red flash as the intercom activated.

"Agent Washington, please report to the Counselor's office."

"Guess you got caught out of bed, Wash?" asked York.

Wash shook his head. "I'm sure it's something more important than that." There was a crash from the training floor and Carolina called to reset the scenario.

"Hey, call us if Eta and Iota need a hand," said Epsilon. There was another crash. "Or if Penny, you know, dies."

"Hey," said north.

"Not nice," clipped Theta.

"And instruct Epsilon to log off first."

.  
.  
.

 

"...has never shown this level of disregard for his teammates before," the Counselor was saying as Wash quietly stepped into the office.

"We shall simply have Gamma increase the level of—behind you, Counselor."

"You wanted to see me, sir?" asked Wash.

The Counselor turned, "Agent Washington," he said. "You got here more quickly than I expected."

"I can come back later."

"Not necessary, Agent Washington. I was just logging off." The Director's hand moved out of frame and the projection terminated. 

"Was that about the Director's personal project?"

"It is not like you to ask questions, Agent Washington."

"Of course, sir. I'm sorry, sir."

"I instructed that AI Epsilon log off before you enter my office. Is that the case?"

"Yes, sir."

"Good. I have called you here today because there have been ...issues with Epsilon."

Wash stiffened. "We've been practicing every day, Counselor. I'm sure will get our intra-link communication issues dealt with shortly."

"Your diligence is not in question, Agent. We're more concerned with Epsilon's ...disruptive behavior."

"What behavior?" Wash asked. "He hasn't been disrupting anything. I know York and North both have trouble sleeping, but I've been fine. Mostly."

"Your performance is not what he has been disrupting. There have been reports of ...incidents."

.  
.  
.

 

"Agent York," said Delta, "please inform AI Epsilon that if he must run defragmentation algorithms in public to do so in a manner that does not broadcast Agent Tennessee's Elysian bluegrass tracks at detectable frequencies."

"For fuck's sake, just talk to me like I'm here."

"Is _that_ why I can't get that song out of my head?!" gasped York.

"Come on," Epsilon leered at Delta. "I'll turn off the music if you just take the stick out for two seconds and ask me nice."

"Agent Washington, please remind AI Epsilon of the directive against—"

" _I'm right here. Just fucking talk to me._ "

"Epsilon, quit trying to get Delta to break the rules," said Wash.

"It's a bullshit rule! Eta and Iota are practically mind-melded inside Carolina and no one gives a shit."

Agent York looked away, "Actually..."

"Uh oh!" said Epsilon, projecting onto York's shoulder. Delta zapped backward and he followed. "Nope! I don't hear anyone objecting, so I'll manifest wherever I want!"

"Agent York—" protested Delta.

"Come on, Epsilon. Don't be an asshole."

.  
.  
.

 

"I know this is just a training mission," clipped 479-er but we'll be flying under real gravity and burning real fuel. I want you to calculate the exact moment I should open the bay doors so you and Wash can parachute out without splattering yourselves against the mountainside."

"Sure thing," said Epsilon, flickering in place.

"Hey! I know what that is. You just made a backup copy of yourself!"

"The way you fly? Hell, I made like six."

"You are _such_ an asshole."

.  
.  
.

 

The bullet zinged past the target, hitting the reinforced wall behind.

"Missed," said Epsilon.

Agent Pennsylvania fired again.

"Missed."

"Missed."

"Only counts if you call it."

"Asshole," she muttered.

.  
.  
.

 

"YOU! ARE! AN! ASSHOLE!" screamed South.

"BITE ME, BITCH-ZILLA!"

 

.  
.  
.

 

"Good morning, Agent Texas."

"Hello, Epsilon."

Omega flared to life an inch from Epsilon's visor. " _Keep walking, asshole._ "

.  
.  
.

 

"Okay," Wash held up both hands, "I think we can agree that last one's not on Epsilon."

"True," said the Counselor, "but there is a detectable pattern in the way Epsilon is perceived by most of his teammates. In fact, the majority of his actions are not what I would call substantive, but considering the needs of group cohesion..."

Wash nodded. "Epsilon needs to learn to be more of a team player. Got it."

"It's a bit more ...pronounced than that," said the Counselor. "In fact, there have been concerns that you personally may not have fully grasped the situation. The incident the other day, for example..."

 

.  
.  
.

 

Wash rounded a corner to see Agents South Dakota, Pennsylvania, New Jersey, Delaware and Arizona. "Uh..." he said, teetering on one foot. "Hi ladies?" just as Epsilon muttered "Uh oh."

South stomped forward. "You better have a damned good explanation!"

"Um," Wash stammered. "What exactly—"

"What did you do to our tampons, blue boy?" snapped Delaware, tossing a chunk of green metal at Wash's feet. "Jersey's best crotchplate! It's ruined!"

" _What?_ " squeaked Wash.

"We talked about you not saying that," New Jersey muttered quietly.

"Start explaining, fragboy!" said Arizona.

"Okay, okay, soooooo Gamma told me I'd been assigned to rework the programmable absorption matrix for optimal—"

" _I don't need the details!_ " hissed Wash.

"Short answer, Gamma's a fucking liar, and ladies I am _so_ sorry," protested Epsilon.

"See? There we go. Now can we—"

"I thought they were just _South's_ tampons," finished Epsilon. "After all, it's the same brand Carolina uses."

Wash waved his hands in the air. "Why do you _know_ that?!"

South's fist hit her palm and she advanced on the pair, "Well _Carolina_ must have a vagina like a—"

Wash jumped back. "I'm sure this is all a misunderstanding _gotta go!_ "

 

.  
.  
.

 

Maine folded his arms and growled. Mixtures of chocolate and vanilla glop dripped from his elbows onto the floor.

"I'm sure Epsilon didn't mean to release your baby photos to the _whole_ squad. And how could he have gotten that much instant pudding into your locker anyway?"

.  
.  
.

 

"Welcome to armor maintenance," said the technician as Wash waited in line between York and Carolina. North stood in the back reading a magazine. "Please state your armor model, size and any specific requirements you may have."

"Agent York, Mark VI, healing unit but no other special needs."

Epsilon flickered in place. "Aren't you going to requisition that anti-lice spray?"

"What?" York spluttered, looking over Wash's shoulder at Carolina, then back at Epsilon. "I—! I don't have headlice!"

"Well no," said Epsilon, "not on your _head_."

" _Jesus!_ " said York.

"What was that?" asked Carolina.

"It's— Um—" York looked at Carolina and then at the tech and then at the very very active intercom system.

"Well it's not like Carolina didn't need to know considering that you two keep—"

"Epsilon," growled Carolina. "Stop talking."

"Come to think of it, how did you even _get_ those things. It's not like Carolina gave them to you."

"I'm not cheating on her! I mean we aren't— I mean— I— Uh!"

"Agent York," said Delta, blinking to life. "Perhaps you should cease speaking. My projections indicate that there are no further verbal assurances you could make that would dispel either the notion that you have been sleeping with Agent Carolina or that you are plagued by genital exoparasites." He flickered and reappeared right in front of the tech. "Though I will add that it is entirely possible to contract such from improperly processed interior armor."

"So..." the tech looked at York. "You _do_ want the spray?"

"I guess," York said in a small voice.

Carolina grabbed Wash by the scruff of his shoulder plate.

"Ow! What did _I_ do?"

"You enable him," shouted North, not looking up from his magazine.

"Oh come on. Epsilon was just trying to be helpful," said Washington.

.  
.  
.

 

"I'm _sure_ Epsilon was just kidding," said Wash.

The Counselor raised his eyebrows. "Is that what you really think?"

"He's got a big mouth," said Wash, holding out his hands. "And ...a colorful personality. I'm sure he'll settle down in a couple days."

The Counselor turned his head to the side. "Most AI settle into their adult personalities within a few weeks of coming to consciousness. If Epsilon does not correct his behavior soon, this bad habit may become permanent. In that case, we would have to pair him with an agent ... _assertive_ enough to counter him. I am afraid that an agent who can neither make full use of his AI's communication abilities nor prevent him from becoming a distraction may not have much place in Project freelancer."

Wash was quiet for a minute. "I understand, sir. I'll take care of the problem."

"See that you do. Dismissed."

 

.  
.  
.

 

"Look, no one wanted to put you on the spot like that, Wash, but this stuff your AI keeps pulling has to stop," said York as he and Wash headed for the mess hall.

"I get it. He needs to learn a few manners."

"Speaking of manners," Epsilon fizzed into place over Wash's shoulder. "How about not talking about me like I'm not here?"

"Sorry, Epsilon," said Wash. "Besides," he turned back to York. "The Counselor is _kind of_ overreacting. It's not like these are mission-level leaks. And..." Wash pulled his shoulders up to his neck. "It's not like your thing with Carolina was _actually_ a secret? Half the squad knows."

"Yeah but she's really weird about the Director finding out about it," York said above a whisper. "This one keeps cracking jokes sooner or later they'll have to throw the book."

"Okay, okay," said Epsilon. "I promise to be more careful about stupid shit that doesn't matter that everybody knows about anyway. We good?"

"It's not just that," Wash said to Epsilon. "You've got to be more discreet about people's information," he said. "I mean the girls' tampon brands? Come on!"

"Eh, chicks like it when dudes aren't afraid to talk about that stuff," said Epsilon. "You boys just need to grow up and accept that women have gooey, gloppy, disgusting organic bodies, just like the rest of you meatbags."

"Come on," scoffed Wash. "You're like two weeks old. What do you about women?"

"Well it just so happens I've recently made a study of the mysteries of the female mind," Epsilon preened.

York shook his head. "You keep acting up around Tex and Omega's going to smack your right back to your transistors."

"Yeah well I don't quite have the wide-ranging options of our friend Wash here do I?"

Wash poked a straw into his apple juice. "What do you mean?"

"You know. Your dating pool. It's big."

York snorted. "Sorry. Got water up my nose."

"Not really," Wash answered as he put down his lunch tray and slid into the bench. "I've only had like three girlfriends, and only two long-term, and no offense but I'm not sure how many organic humans would be interested in dating an AI."

"Yeah, I know. I can see your memories," said Epsilon. "I'm saying that _I_ don't _also_ like dudes."

There was a sound of benches scraping as Wyoming, Florida and Montana dropped off their poker game and turned around, eyes converging on Washington like searchlights.

"What did he say?" murmured York. North glued his eyes to his magazine.

"I think Tex is more like that guy you were seeing right before Basic. John, Jeremy... Jimmy? The point is..." he trailed off. "Uh, why's everybody looking?"

Across the room, Wyoming turned back to his hand of cards, murmuring, "I knew it."

"Oh you did not," answered Florida.

"Hey..." said Epsilon. "That vein in your head's going kind of hard there, buddy."

The juice box exploded in Washington's fist.

"Were you not out?" Epsilon asked in a barely audible voice.

"Well I _fucking AM NOW!_ "

York slid to the far end of the table.

"Dude, I am so sorry. I had no idea it was a secr— _JESUS CHRIST_."

Epsilon jumped back, projecting a foot out of Washington's reach as both hands went straight for his holographic trachea. He reappeared two tables away as Wash twisted after him.

" _I'm going to kill you, you electronic asshole._ "

"You can't kill me! I live in your brain!" 

" _I will find a way._ "

"Wash! Calm down!" shouted York.

Epsilon reappeared partway across the room, half-hiding under a ceiling strut. "Wash, can we talk about—"

" _No,_ " hissed Washington. There was a sound of servos powering up and Wash became a yellow-gray streak gripping the strut with both hands as Epsilon disappeared.

"Help!"

"Hey!" shouted North. "Do _not_ use your equipment in here!"

Wash either didn't hear him or didn't care, streaking after Epsilon like a yellow-striped hellhound.

"Watch it! Some of us are trying to eat lunch!" snapped South as Wash winged her elbow ducking between the benches. "Dumb motherfucker."

"Agent York, if you would kindly inform Epsilon that his holographic nature—"

" _Not now, D._ "

"Fine. Just tell him to stop moving."

"What?" called Epsilon. " _HELL NO._ "

"No, he's right," called North. "He can't actually hurt you, remember?"

" _He said he'd find a way._ "

Amid the shouting, the door slid open.

"I think I'm finally getting the knack!"

"Come on, Penny. You'll feel better after a glass of— _HOLY PIKACHU SHIT!!_ " shouted Jersey as Wash jump-rappelled off Pennsylvania's already dented chestplate giving himself a good fifteen feet of lift.

"WHAT THE FUCK?!" yelled Jersey.

"OW!" called Penn as a chair went wheeling through the air and bounced smack into her visor.

"Ugh," South rolled her eyes and took a bite of her sandwich.

_Do you know how hard it is to be in the military and be anything but the perfect macho guy? Do you know the shit people are going to give me?_

"Look, the other Freelancers who got AIs, even Wyoming, they don't have a problem with—"

_It doesn't matter! It only takes one to make my life complete fucking hell and the whole ship's going to know by tomorrow._

"Aren't there like six guys who are out on this ship?"

_That doesn't mean I wanted to be! And none of them are in the top eight. None of them have a big fat target next to their name!_

"Well Agent Arkansas is a sniper so technically he _does_ have a—"

_SHUT UP!_

" _What's going on in here?_ " boomed a voice from the doorway.

Epsilon straightened out of his crouch behind the water cooler. "Oh, hey Tex. Nothing much. Just a little—Whoa!" he jumped back again as Wash darted toward him, sending the water tank spinning onto Montana and Jersey.

_Do you know how hard I worked? You son of a—_ Wash staggered back as Tex kicked him in the face hard enough to crack his visor. He shook himself, dazed, as North and York grabbed him by the arms.

Tex looked at Wash and at Epsilon, shook her head, and walked away.

"Let me go!" snapped Wash. "What are you doing?"

"Stopping you before you do any more damage!" said North. A low moan came from the heap of plating that had been Pennsylvania. "If we're lucky no one'll write this up."

"I dunno if this is the best time to say this," said York, "but it's not going to make any difference that you're—"

" _It's not the best time to say this_ ," growled Washington. 

Agent Florida sidled over, "So how into guys are you because I have this friend who thinks you're _just the_ —"

"Not now, Florida," murmured North.

Epsilon slowly moved toward Wash at his eye level. "So..."

Wash let out a growl that would have made Maine step back. Epsilon squeaked.

North looked at the four perfect marks that Washington's gauntleted fingers had left on the ceiling. "Did he actually make that jump?" he asked

"Yeah," murmured Epsilon. "I wasn't even helping him with the math that time. Kid's got moves."

"Come on," muttered York as he and North bodily dragged Wash into the hall.

"Guys," Wash swallowed. "I'm sorry if I—"

"Okay," said North, shoving Wash into an alcove. "This is partially your own fault. You didn't rein him in when he was spilling other people's private business and now he's done it to you."

"Hey!" snapped Epsilon. "I'm _right here._ "

" _Shut up,_ " snarled Wash.

"And two," said York, "the Director is going to find out about this so you should probably write up a report yourself."

Wash scowled but nodded.

"Three ...you were talking in his head."

Wash looked up. "I was?"

"Yeah, man. We couldn't hear a thing!"

"You couldn't?" Washington's voice pitched up in relief.

"Not a word," said York. "Of course, we could still hear all of what _he_ was saying so—"

"DAMMIT."

"You know what this means—" said York.

"—you're back on the field assignment list," finished North.

"I'm back on the field assignment list," breathed Wash.

"Hey! We're back on the field assignment list!" cheered Epsilon. "Yay. Best day ever. So there's no reason for any more strangling."

" _Nobody said that_ ," growled Washington.

"You," York pointed at Epsilon, " _dick. Move._ If you can't keep a regular secret, what makes you think the brass'll trust either of you with military intel?"

"It was an _accident_. I didn't _know_ it was a secret."

"You'd have known if you'd been paying attention," said Wash. "Or if you'd _asked me_ about it."

"Come on," said North, putting a hand on York's shoulder. "It sounds like those two need to work a few things out."

Wash pushed himself to his feet and started walking in the opposite direction, not really caring where.

"So..." said Epsilon. "I'm... sorry I spilled the fact that you're bisexual to your teammates who love and support you and totally aren't homophobic? Biphobic?"

Wash narrowed his eyes. There it was, the way into Epsilon's mind. It wasn't about communication or familiarity with the implants or even shared mission goals. It was about getting to know someone for who they truly were, and hating them on a personal level.

_I worked my ass off to get where I am, Epsilon_ , he thought clear as a bell into Epsilon's receiver. _Top eight._

"Yeah, that's not gonna change."

_It's not in my psych profile. Not even the Counselor knew._

"That's probably 'cause he wasn't looking for it. It's not like it's got jack to do with being a Freelancer. Most of you guys are too messed up to be dating anyone."

_You ever wonder if all the men on the leaderboard are straight because that's their skill level or because people don't promote gay and bi guys no matter how good they are?_

"Yeah, but I heard that South and Arizona..."

_It's different for women, Epsilon. Flesh-and-blood humans see non-straight men as sexually threatening and they don't want them around._

"Don't worry about that, Wash. I'm sure no one sees you as sexually threatening."

_You're a complete asshole._

Wash found himself at the hangar and felt the doors open in front of him. He walked to the rail and gripped it with both hands.

_There was a guy on my first assignment. Out, proud and a perfect fit for squad leader. He should have been made sergeant when the spot opened up, but the brass thought that he couldn't hack it in a leadership position. They didn't ask any of the guys he'd actually be commanding what we thought about it. I don't want to be underestimated like that._

_It's not just about who's homophobic. It's about the fact that I didn't want to deal with it, Epsilon. Not the politics, not the fratboy bullshit, not the people showing off how open-minded they are just by treating me normal, not the gay guys who think I'm kidding myself. I just wanted to focus on my job. Thanks to you, my whole team thinks I'm some pathetic closet case who had to be dragged into the open by someone else. I had the right to do this on my own terms, Epsilon._

"So you were going to stay quiet about it forever?"

"I was going to say something if it ever came up. That way I wouldn't be putting a spotlight on it. Like you said, it doesn't have anything to do with winning the war, and we don't date much."

Epsilon projected at Wash's elbow, looking out at the maintenance crews. "But maybe this makes it easier for the next guy, you know?"

"Epsilon," said Wash. "I let a team of surgeons embed an artificial copy of another human being in my central nervous system just because it _might_ make humanity better prepared for another war to extinction. I've scored my trailblazer points. If I wanted to be an ambassador, I'd've joined the diplomatic corps."

"Yeah. I'm sorry, though. I really wouldn't've done it if I'd known. But York says he doesn't mind, and honestly I don't think anyone does."

_That's not the point. They're supposed to not mind. They don't get to score good-guy points by not minding something that isn't their business and doesn't affect them._

Wash took a breath. "Up until now, I was just the new guy on the squad, eager to learn. Now the others will think that I let the other guys boss me around because I've got crushes on them when the truth is I just don't have an alpha personality."

"Alpha," Epsilon repeated blankly.

"You know, top dog. Always has to be in charge. Couldn't play second banana if his life depended on it unless there's someone bigger and badder around. York, Maine, the whole bunch of them, Carolina's the only reason that—Epsilon, are you okay?"

"It's fine. The Alpha's safe. Don't worry about the Alpha."

"...huh?"

"I said why _do_ you let them boss you around? They're kinda a bunch of dicks."

"Because they're more experienced and usually right," said Wash. "But don't tell them I said that." He folded his arms. "You know, we're going to make a list of things that you can't tell people."

"Uh..." Epsilon trailed off.

"Check that, a list of things you _can_ tell people. That'll probably save time."

"It goes 'the weather.'"

Epsilon was silent.

"And that's it."

"You suck."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got some really great suggestions to my "What would Epsilon do to the Freelancers if he were let loose on the MoI?" (tigereyes45, _what the hell?!_ ) but I realized that they had to be very specifically Epsilon being an asshole without realizing that he was being an asshole. This isn't the self-aware Church Alpha of Blood Gulch or the Epsilon of Chorus who apologizes to Tucker. This is him in his days of salad and glory, his strong, youthful, unfiltered jerkitude.
> 
> Originally posted as Darkfrog24 under the title "Best, Part 5."
> 
> drf24 at columbia dot edu

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Tumblr under Darkfrog24.


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